


A Rogue By Any Other Name...

by TheRogueRavager



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, First time writer, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Second Movie Doesn't Exsist, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-01-17 04:24:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12357402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRogueRavager/pseuds/TheRogueRavager
Summary: You never know what you're looking for, until you find it.





	1. How did I get here?

**Author's Note:**

> A first attempt at something like this, ever, so expect several edits; even the title is not set it stone. I apologize for the slow start; I promise it'll get better once I get past all this set up. Also sorry in advance for not doing the more traditional 'fill in the blank' reader. This fiction is mostly self indulgent for the writer. Constructive criticism and kudo's are greatly appreciated!
> 
> No, the POV character/Reader is /not/ Rogue.

The ground was cold, and hard, too hard if you were asked an opinion, but right this moment no one cared about your comfort. You ached all over, though you weren’t quite sure why. Even breathing was a struggle, like trying to draw breath through a narrow polystyrene tube tied into multiple knots, and packed with metal shavings. Through the fog of pain you grasped for some sort of sense of where you were, and what had happened. Slowly at first fleeting images came to you. They were disconnected with no sort of cohesive semblance as to what had happened, or why, but as you tried to shuffle your memories into order, things started to become clear. A flash of fear. A feeling of being discarded? No, abandoned. You were beaten? No, suddenly you remembered you’d be tossed aside, like so much rubbish. You had been deemed worthless, a waste of money and time. Sold? Yes, sold. For a moment you contemplated why someone would sell you, but then the flood gates of your memory burst wide open, the images coming freely now, drowning in sensations and emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. 

A desert town had been the place you called home. You had been just another worker, belonging to a small company. For the most part your life had been simple, with no real complications - eat, work, sleep, repeat. You had honestly loved your job, and you were good at it. You got to play with tools, building dedicated machines of entertainment, with delicate circuitry that you were suited for with your slender hands. While the Masters appreciated your talent, your Boss had seen you as a threat. He’d been convinced you were there to take his job, and he wasn’t about to be replaced by some female! It had taken him some time, but eventually he’d won the war and none of the other workers had stood against him; to fearful for their own jobs and well being, they had turned a blind eye, though they grumbled behind the Boss’ back at your unjust treatment. It didn’t matter, you were broken, and the Masters, who had once praised your skills, had casually tossed you aside. 

Shaking your head you tried to stop the flood of memories, trying to raise yourself to hands and knees, but it was no use. Bringing your blurry vision into focus became easier once you picked an object; a simple bed. The steal frame was basic; legs and a base. The mattress normally wouldn’t have been something you’d have lain on; perhaps that’s why you were on the floor. There was a threadbare piece of fabric as an excuse for a blanket, and something lumpy that you guessed passed for a pillow, at least that’s what you were hoping it was masquerading as. The rest of the room was bare, just four walls with what must be a door panel in one, and the bed, nothing more, nothing less. But what was this place? Lit panels were scattered across the ceiling, providing a soft light that wasn’t flattering in the least, but it was hands down better compared to the odor that hung heavy in the air. The smell was a cross between rust, a locker room, and feet; enough to make even the most stalwart threaten to lose their last meal. You gave the room a second glance, searching for a distraction from the stench, only then noticing what must have been a view screen or a monitor of some sort, the surface appearing dark and inactive. More memories started to return, and you brought your hand to your forehead as if the gesture alone could stop the sorrow and pain that came with this batch.

Normally when you’re done with a tool you put it away, but if it no longer works what do you do? Usually someone would just throw the defective tool away, and that’s what had happened with you. Of no more use, your Masters sold you for whatever they could get. As a female no longer good for physical labor, that left only a couple options, so it wasn’t that big of a surprise when you were purchased by a Mistress who ran a brothel. The rules at the brothel had been simple, and following the rules meant rewards; fail to follow the rules, and the consequences were severe. Oh beatings weren’t something you had to fear, not unless that’s what the client wanted, but there were things far more devious your Mistress had come up with as ways of punishment. For starters food became a privilege, not a right. Initially that didn’t bother you. You’d always been strong willed, determined, an alpha-type personality, or as the Mistress referred to you ... Stubborn. Stupid Stubborn. At first it was just food that was taken from you. Then you were chained. Heavy manacles on both wrists that could connect to one another, and an uncomfortably tall, heavy collar to match. The collar forced your chin up high, causing your neck to cramp so you couldn’t relax your head, let alone look down. Neither collar or cuffs were padded, or properly sized, and would chafe’ with even the smallest amount of movement. Frequently your wrists were connected by a chain to your collar; sometimes in the front, sometimes in the back, both were various shades of discomfort. To make matters worse a second chain would be attached to your collar, and then to a ring in the wall of your pen. Yes, that’s right, you didn’t have a room. The guests got rooms, but the working girls had pens or cells. 

After enough torture you had managed to fall into a bit of a rhythm, finding a way to mentally hide yourself away while you let yourself be used. It was only your body, not your soul; that was something you would never surrender. Every so often, if the guest was too lewd, you would refuse, and another girl would be brought to satisfy the customer. As a result you would get the night off, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t without punishment. To refuse a guest was one of the few times the Mistress would hurt you. With that dreaded collar tight around your neck so that the steel cut into your flesh if you let your head sag even an inch, you would find yourself gagged and stripped bare, bound flat on your back to a bed. The Mistress would then take her slender cane and crack it across the soles of your feet till the blood ran freely. But it didn’t end there unfortunately, that was only the beginning. While the rest of the girls worked the Mistress worked on you. Even the bouncers, burly men hired for their muscle and ill temperament, were permitted their way with you. Mistress permitted them to hit, and they liked to, though at least they never broke any of your bones.

You blink a few times at that memory as the bile rises in the back of your throat, your hand moving to relieve the phantom pain of the collar still around your neck. Your fingers brush at the scar just below your hairline, a hint of shock that it is skin instead of cold metal. You shudder, then again, till they rack your body as your mind reels, remembering what you’d endured, the things you did, performed on command like a trained animal waiting to be thrown scraps for a job well done. But while your body may have submitted, your soul never did; you were a survivor, and you did what you needed to.

One night you were assigned to a guest, a special guest. Like any night that any girl worked you had been scrubbed almost raw, scraped clean of any unnecessary body hair, powdered, perfumed, painted, and dressed in a scandalous manner that really left very little to the imagination. The usual attire for the girls was a slender band of fabric around the bust, and a skirt of sorts; tonight you wore one that was more like a loin cloth, connected by delicate chains on either side. Your hair had been twisted and pinned up at the nape of your neck, save for a few tendrils, and the white lock of hair that fell to either side of your face. You slowed your breathing, mentally steeling yourself for what was to come, and forced what you hoped was a seductive smile to your lips. You opened the door and there in the flickering light of the candles you got your first glimpse of whom you’d be entertaining this evening.


	2. Killing Me Softly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay in posting this. As always, kudo's and comments are greatly appreciated.

The fog continued to lift from your mind as you begin to take inventory; everything seemed in order, no worse for wear then usual, no bumps and bruises beyond the ones you already had. But this room, it still didn’t make sense. Was it a cell? Was it a holding room? What was this place, why couldn’t you remember? The bed did not looking inviting in the least, so sitting on it was out of the question. With a little effort you managed to get yourself into a seated position, stretching stiff muscles before pulling your legs up and hugging knees to chest. You brought a hand up, raking it through your bright auburn tresses in an attempt to finger comb any snarls from your hair. Only there were no snarls, no knots, no tangles. It was as if someone had recently brushed your hair till it hung in gleaming, soft waves down your back. Reaching up you twined your fingers around a white lock, tugging on it. It was a subconscious gesture that you had started doing after your accident, an accident that had turned the hair at the front of your head from bright copper-red to snowy white; it was a sign of just how frustrated you were over the situation. As much as you tried to focus on figuring out the why, where, and how, you knew the answers were hopefully trapped in your memories.

The candlelight cast flickering light about the room, throwing sinister dancing shadows over the man who stood before you. He wore a dark red leather jump suit, that looked pieced together in places, with deep creases, and on his right sleeve a symbol; a golden flame with a smaller red flame inside. He was built tall and whip thin, his hair styled in a short mohawk of sorts, with hints of gray at his temples and facial scruff that gave him a roguish look. His face was thin, with some scarring around his left eye, but there was nothing in his expression that caused you to fear him. Under different circumstances you might actually call him attractive, even though he smelled vaguely of hydrolic oil, and metal. You realized you were staring, and quickly turned your gaze downwards, trying not to fidget. Would he find you pleasing? Were you his type? What would he want from you? The rustle of leather betrayed his movement; you could almost feel his eyes on you, roaming the curves of your form. A callused hand took your chin gently, and directed your gaze upwards. He wasn’t forceful, you probably could have resisted him if you’d wanted to, but your feet still hurt from the last time you were disobedient. Trailing your eyes up his form, taking in every crease in his suit, every stain, every ... weapon? Okay, maybe he wasn’t completely harmless. This close the calluses on his hands were obvious, the loosely wrapped dark gray fabric around his neck did not completely hide what appeared to be markings on his slender neck, and as you looked up to his face your eyes locked with his. You weren’t sure if you could look away. His eyes were blue, a bright, pure blue and they held you in place. Your natural instincts kicked in; stand your ground, don’t back down, don’t look away, show no weakness. 

Kraglin turned when he heard the pad of bare feet, and gazed down at a small Terran female who was almost breathtaking, and simultaneously so out of place. She barely wore a stitch of clothing and what she did wear only emphasized every curve; slender neck, a modest bust, small waist, and generous hips, with legs that seemed to go on forever. Black designs had been inked into her skin, and he could only guess as to their reason or meaning, however he also noticed that she was a little to thin, and the makeup that had been applied did a poor job to hide the bruises let alone the raw skin on her wrists and neck. Any excitement he’d initially had upon first seeing her was gone just as quickly, like being doused in ice water and then kicked outside on Contraxia. He went to look at her face, but she had quickly lowered her gaze, turning meek and submissive. That wouldn’t do; he needed to look into her eyes and see for himself if his instincts were right or not. He knew this place had a bad reputation, but that was part of the appeal to the Ravagers; not all of them were happy with a Love-Bot for a myriad of reasons.S till, when he’d requested ‘something exotic’ he didn’t figure he’d be given a Terran, certainly not one that didn’t appear to be here by her own choice. Like his Captain, slavery left a nasty taste in his mouth. He took her chin in his hand and gently tried to raise her face, so she’d look up at him. He marveled at her fiery hued tresses till at last she tilted her head up to look at him, long lashes fluttering before finally revealing green eyes. They were the most intense green eyes he’d ever seen on any female, and as their gazes locked he marveled at the flecks of gold hidden within their depths. Had he ever seen eyes so pretty? Clearing his throat the Xandarian managed to make his voice work, “Hi. What’s your name? My name’s....”.

You released the lock of hair from your fingers and sat up a bit more strait as the memory came to you loud and clear, as if he’d just whispered it into your ear; Kraglin, his name was Kraglin Obfonteri. Yes, that had been his name. His voice had been slightly guttural, with a slight drawl. It had been comforting at that moment as it sounded a bit like home. He’d confused you with the sudden casual attitude, as if you were both sitting in a bar instead of a brothel. The tall male had simply stood there, still holding your chin in the palm of his hand, keeping your eyes directed upwards, the two of you locked in each others gaze’s. Closing your eyes you let out a heavy sigh, relaxing as you let yourself drift back into the memory.

He had given you his name, after inquiring as to what your name was. You wanted to be a smart ass, to respond with ‘what do you want my name to be?’, but a glance to the blaster at his hip, and the blade in his boot cautioned you to play it safe for the time being. “Raven. They call me Raven, or Red.”, you finally replied. His expression had become mildly puzzled, so you added, “Raven, like the big, black birds.”. You had watched his eyes shift to your left arm where black feathers had been tattooed into your bicep, a small scattering of birds breaking away and ‘flying’ down your arm, each slightly larger then the one before, and ending with one on the inside of your left wrist. His eyes quickly returned to yours after thoroughly inspecting the artwork. As the seconds stretched on you gained a bit more self assurance about the situation, yet you were confused. There had been no shredding of garments, no commands given. Was he trying to lull you into a false sense of security? Your gut instincts told you that wasn’t the case, so what was his game. You decided you were done playing. “Well Mr. Obfonteri, what can I do for you, what would you like?”, you asked, using a slightly provocative tone of voice; he was still your customer for the night, might as well get it over and done with.

Kraglin was caught a bit off guard by the sudden shift in her demeanor. She’d been timid at first, almost demure, but with that question, and in that tone of voice, he got the impression that there was more to her then appeared. “Nice ta meet you, Miss Raven.”, he said, “Mind if we just sit an’ talk?” The last was an obvious question. He wasn’t sure he wanted to push her just yet. Releasing her face he purposely turned his back to her, giving her an opening to try and attack him, and moved to sit on the edge at the end of the bed. It took her a moment, but she did follow him, moving to sit at the opposite end, legs folded beneath her, and hands in her lap. Again, her appearance was submissive, but something cautioned him that she was anything but. He tried to keep still, to stay calm, but that was like going into a bar unarmed. He’d known one other Terran, but Quill had been young when he came to live aboard the ship. He couldn’t honestly place the female’s age, but he’d guess she was close to his; a far cry from a frightened child.

You and Kraglin had sat and talked for most of the evening. With each question you relaxed a bit more, almost dropping your guard; almost. He’d been easy to speak with, and he answered your questions as easily as he asked them. You had asked him things about what he was playing at, and he had in turn asked you simple questions, like were you here by your own choice. When you’d told him you’d been bought his expression had turned to obvious anger, and yet it didn’t seem directed at you. Back and forth, you both went for some time. You had asked where he was from, and what he did, and he asked you about how you ended up here, and what sorts of skills you had. Never during all that time did he try to move closer, he didn’t let his eyes roam, and his tone never changed. At last, after seeming satisfied with yours answers to his interrogation, Kraglin had asked one simple question; “Would you like to leave this place?” 

Was he kidding, or maybe it was a test. For long moments you debated whether or not to answer him. Could Mistress be tempting you, looking for an excuse to punish you more. Your gaze darted to the door, waiting for her and two of her favorite goons to burst through the door, for Kraglin to betray you and reveal your traitorous thoughts. You waited, holding your breath, regretting choosing to open up to the Xandarian. He wasn’t even human! You had learned that during your little trivial pursuit session. Sure he looked human, but he’d revealed that he was from Xandar. He had said he was First Mate aboard a large ship. Eclectic? Elector? Electric? Erector? Eclector, that had been the name. The group he belonged to were the Ravagers. An obvious pride had filled his voice when he spoke about it, and about his Captain. When you pressed him about the Ravagers, and what they were, his jaw dropped, openly shocked, and you suddenly felt stupid; you must be the only individual in the galaxy to not know about the Ravagers. As the moments stretched on, with Kraglin watching you curiously, you finally gave your answer.


	3. How Soon Is Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting there, honest! 
> 
> As always kudo's and constructive feedback are greatly appreciated, and a great motivator for me to keep writing.

Kraglin watched the girl bite at her lower lip, catching it with a pointed canine. Her green eyes darted towards the door, but he didn’t hear anyone coming. Could she hear, or sense something he couldn’t? If she could she didn’t say anything to him. He continued to watch both her and the door. It was like she was at war with herself; he could only guess her inner dialog. All he could do was wait her out and see what her answer would be. Of course then there came the problem of how he was going to get her out of here if she did want to leave. He’d not really thought this whole thing through all the way, so now he’d just have to wing it. While he waited for Raven to decide he quickly started thinking of some way, any way, to try and free her from this place. She’d made it clear she was a slave, a used and abused slave to make things worse, and she had skills, so that was something in their favor; it would give him an excuse for smuggling her aboard the ship. If she was good enough, and if she wanted to, maybe she’d join the Ravagers; a female Ravager wasn’t unheard of, just unusual. Of course with her being a Terran was it a good idea to begin with, given how fragile her race could be? He couldn’t take back his offer of freedom any more then you could put a bolt back in a blaster. Finally Raven turned back to face him and gave nothing more then a quick nod of her head.

With a single nod you’d given Kraglin your answer; you wanted to leave. The Ravager had returned your nod, letting you know he understood, but when he finally started to outline the plan for getting you free of that hell hole you’d become disheartened. He wasn’t going to be able to spring you that night, instead promising he’d be back tomorrow, and at that time he’d smuggle you out when he left. He’d regretted being improperly prepared to steal a pretty lady from beneath her owner’s own nose, but he was definitely up for the challenge. You were skeptical and impressed at the same time; it was an impressive boast, but you doubted you’d see him after that night. The following evening when the Mistress prepared you, she had been almost kind, adding scented oils to your bath, and not scrubbing off nearly as many layers of skin as usual. She had even spoken with an almost fond tone as she mentioned you had a ‘special guest’ again. So you weren’t overly surprised when you walked into the room and it turned out to be the very same Xandarian waiting for you from the night before. You couldn’t resist returning his smile when you saw him. He’d outlined his plan, and executed it flawlessly. Before you realized what was happening you were on board his ship with the lights of the brothel disappearing behind you; good riddance.

You could remember the sound of Kraglin’s chuckle when you had flashed your smile, over joyed to see that he really had returned to free you like he said he would. You also remembered the grins you both wore as he piloted the ship away from port, leaving the life you knew behind you. For a long time you had stood there, arms wrapped around your chest, holding yourself, as you watched the lights of your former life slowly stretch into the distance, till they had at last winked out of your view, and existence, forever. He had done it. From there you had both traveled the short distance back to the ship he’d mentioned. You’d thought the ship you were on had been the Eclector till Kraglin had laughed. Once he could breathe again he had explained about the difference between his ship and the other, but the description did nothing to prepare you for the sheer size. The Eclector was ginormous! You had wanted to ask Kraglin something, something that seemed important but was suddenly forgotten. You were exhausted from your time at the brothel, the lack of sleep and food, the endless pain, and now you were overwhelmed by the ever increasing size of the ship coming into range, and all the possibilities it held in store for you. If you could have asked one question at that moment though it probably would have been ‘can I have a pillow?’ as you crumpled where you stood.

Kraglin panicked seeing the girl’s body prone on the floor till the rise and fall of her chest reassured him she was simply out cold, nothing more. He looked at the screens, and decided that before he got back into the hanger bay he needed to move the Terran somewhere less obvious. Well in all honesty anywhere other then the floor would be less obvious, but that wasn’t the goal here. The goal was to safely find a way to smuggle her aboard the ship without decks full of his crew mates finding out what he was up to. Then there was still the matter of the Captain; he hadn’t exactly gotten clearance to bring aboard a passenger. Recruiting, sure, he was permitted that, but he was pretty sure the Captain wasn’t going to view what he was doing as ‘recruiting’. Setting the auto pilot Kraglin rose from his chair to gently gather Raven in his arms. He was shocked by how light she was; surely his boots weighed more then she did. This close he was also aware of how nice she smelled, and that made him a little to aware of the fact that she was still basically wearing nothing. She’d been sent to him in a skinny little tube-top, made from some wispy fabric, with what he guessed were the matching bottoms. Clothes. He would have to do something about her clothes or she’d stand out. He found a bench where he could lay the red head down, and turned to rummage for a spare set of clothes, even a spare jumpsuit, something that would help her blend in a little bit. He looked again at her, giving a shake of his head; he’d really put his foot in it this time. When did ‘damsel in distress rescuing’ become a part of his job description? “Ah-ha!”, he mumbled in triumph, finding a spare jumpsuit of his laying around. It would be to big, but it would offer her some protection from the cold and the prying eyes. Big and baggy would also help obscure her figure. Now the bigger question; did he wake her up first, or simply dress her himself?

Glancing down you realized that you were wearing an over-sized jumpsuit, obviously meant for someone with a few more inches then you had. Kraglin must have found a way to stuff you into the suit before doing up the zipper. A quick peek revealed you still had the attire on that you’d been wearing when the Xandarian smuggled you out of the brothel. A flood of warmth rushed through your body, accompanied by an intense feeling of gratitude; he could have easily taken advantage of you, but he didn’t. However it still didn’t answer how you got to this room. It was time to get to your feet and find some answers, since your memory seemed to be coming up empty. As you slowly brought yourself up to your full height, raising your arms above your head, you realized your feet were still bare as you rose up onto your toes. For a long moment you held the pose, muscles and tendons losing their stiffness. You brought your arms slowly back down to either side, a little sigh of content as you settled back onto your feet. It felt good to stand up without anything tethering you to the wall or yourself; a real sense of freedom. Your instincts however were trying to break the reverie of the moment and get your attention. You brought your hand up to the back of your neck, rubbing at the prickling sensation you felt. It had nothing to do with your scar, or your implant however. Something didn’t feel right.

Grabbing his holo-pad, Kraglin took a quick peek into the holding room; she was finally awake. He hadn’t made it far before he’d had to stash the Terran he’d been carrying, like a pile of dirty laundry, but a Ravager known as Halfnut had been coming down the same hallways as he, and that was not an encounter he’d wanted to deal with. He probably could have pulled rank, but he didn’t need the other Ravager running off to some of the less then desirable crew members, and stirring up more trouble then he might already be in. It’d been easy to stash the girl in the small cell and seal the door, making sure to activate the room’s monitor so he could keep tabs on her. Now he just had to get to her and finish getting her to her own quarters where she could rest properly till he found a way to tell his Captain what he’d done. Kraglin turned to leave the bridge and head down to where he’d left Raven. It was going to be a bit of a trek to get back down to her without looking to conspicuous, but a voice drew him up short. “Where you headin’, Obfonteri?” Kraglin swallowed nervously as he turned to face his Captain. “I got some stuff ta check on, Cap’n, that’s all.”, he answered truthfully, and received a dismissive nod from the other man. The Xandarian walked casually till he was sure he was out of sight, at which point he let out a heavy sigh and moved with purpose. He could only hope the Captain couldn’t sense he was holding something back, but he got that itch between his shoulder blades that said he was in for it later on.


	4. Stripped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay. I like to have the next chapter mostly finished before I post the previous one, and I hit a bit of a block with what will be chapter 5. I knew where it needed to go, but wasn't sure how I was getting there. Now that I'm picking up momentum again I should start posting more regularly.
> 
> So enjoy! And as always comments and kudos are appreciated and help motivate me!

You’d gotten to your feet and had already made a thorough investigation of your room, not quite brave enough to touch the screen on the wall, or the thread bare rag passing as a blanket. Pacing like a caged animal you tried to make your brain work, but nothing clicked into place. You’d collapsed aboard Kraglin’s ship and that was the last thing you could honestly remember. Maybe you had been double crossed; stolen only to be sold again. There was no way you were going back to a life like that. You were done being someone’s property, someone’s toy or pet, and it didn’t matter what it would cost for you to retain your freedom now that you had it. Yet here you were in a spare jumpsuit, the probably belonged to the very Xandarian that rescued you from that miserable existence you were living, so how could you think such things about him. You were so lost in your own thoughts that you almost failed to detect the sound of a code being entered. At long last your door was being unlocked. The thought that it might be your savior crossed your mind, till you remembered the sheer size of the ship you were on. Suddenly the odds that it was Kraglin didn’t seem to good, which meant you had to be ready for anything. A quick glance around reminded you there wasn’t much in the way of weapons of opportunity, so you’d have to hope you had some sort of chance at who ever, or what ever, walked through that door. You positioned yourself off to one side, and waited. The door slid open and a tall, slender individual stepped in with a very familiar mohawk, and a voice equally familiar, “Raven?”. You let out a sigh of relief, and relaxed ... sort of.

At the sound of the sigh Kraglin whipped his head around, turning to find the girl flat against the wall. He wasn’t completely sure what she’d intended to do, but it was the fact that she wasn’t curled up frightened and helpless that gave him the confidence that this would work. He tried to reassure her with a smile, before commenting, “Come on, let’s get you outta here.” At this hour most of the crew would be in a couple, predictable locations, which meant roaming the corridors would be a bit safer then the first time he tried. He was about to apologize for leaving her there for so long, but the more he thought about it he realized it just wasn’t going to sound right, almost hollow, so he held his tongue and instead offered his hand.

You accepted Kraglin’s out-stretched hand, once again nodding; what choice did you have but to trust him. Before you could take a step though your guide held up his hand, signaling for quiet as he quickly took a peek out the door. After checking to see if the coast was still clear he leaned back in, and close. To close. At this range you could smell his scent mixed with the leather and steel smell you had originally detected on him. He was musky, but not in a bad way, and his breath was warm on your skin as he whispered to you, “We need ta move quietly. I don’t want the crew ta know you’re on board.”. You tightened your grip on his hand, and that was all he needed to pull you out the door and into the hallway. However big you had imagined the ship from the outside the warren of corridors made it infinitely more confusing. Initially you tried to find landmarks, ways to remember which way you went; a busted pipe at this junction, the rising steam billowing from a side passage at this intersection. Quickly you realized you lost your way; of course the occasional doubling back to avoid the sound of boots didn’t help. Your mind slipped back to your youth, a movie you’d seen with walls that moved, and passageways the you couldn’t see even when you looked strait at them, and a castle, a castle where the stairs ran all directions, even upside down. Labyrinth, yes, that was the name of the movie. As you thought about the movie, as much as you could remember, your feet moved automatically, or at least at first. Your childhood reverie was broken with the fact that your feet, your bare feet, were beginning to feel extremely painful. Tugging at Kraglin’s grip on your hand, you desperately tried to get his attention.

Kraglin felt the tug at his hand, his gaze darting this way and that to try and make sure they weren’t seen. Then another tug, this time more insistent then the first. Turning, he hissed, “What?!” and instantly regretted it. She was either biting the inside of her cheek, or chewing on her own tongue, but it was obvious she was trying to stay quiet. With her other hand the red head following him pointed down. Down? What’s so important about the ... the floor. The steel floor with it’s almost serrated cross-hatched pattern. Great for boots, not for bare feet, and certainly not soft, delicate Terran bare feet that were used to the soft floors of a brothel. Heck, most of the crew would rather go around in just their underwear then go without their boots. He felt instantly guilty, wincing as he ducked his head back into the neck of his jumpsuit; Raven’s feet were leaving little red marks on the grill-like floor. Boots, he had to find some that were close to her size, and now. Not bothering to ask, Kraglin scooped the girl up in his arms and continued down the hallway. He knew there was a supply closet up ahead where he could hopefully find something that would work. As he continued to move forward, turning left, then right, then right again, he did what he could to avoid noticing the beautiful woman in his arms. She was light, she smelled pleasing, and he had a very good idea of what she looked like without clothes on remembering her vividly from that first night in the candle light. He went to heave a sigh, inhaling deeply, and silently cussed himself out over his own mistake. A subtle perfume, a smell that reminded him of flowers from back on Xandar, the heat of her skin, the musk of leather, the sharp smell of salt and sweat that made him subconsciously lick his lips. He suddenly felt like a parched man denied water, even though it was all around him, but putting her down wasn’t an option, not without something to protect her feet. Just a bit farther and hopefully he could fix that, he needed to; he couldn’t keep holding her this close and not do something that might get him slapped, but much farther and he wasn’t going to be able to resist the temptation he held so close.

Their goal was just within sight, a door at the end of the intersection. Kraglin knew extra garments were stored in this particular location; it made things easy for some of the crew when they needed to replace something on the way to the hanger. Raven still clung to his neck, curled up as small as she could make herself in the bulky leathers, but the girl kept her head on a swivel, especially checking behind them when ever they passed another hallway. She was looking back even now as Kraglin went to look left, and as he swung his head around to check the opposite direction he nearly crashed into another Ravager. Pulling up short the Xandarian bit his lip as he regarded the other man. He wasn’t nearly as tall, nor as thin, and his hair hung in rope like strands to just above his jawline.

Wondering why you’d stopped, you turned to look. The man that Kraglin was staring at had a vibrant blue design inked onto the right side of his face that reminded you of the stories of the old Celts, and how they’d paint themselves with a blue pigment. He had a salt and pepper goatee, and a hard, steely eyed gaze that he had turned on Kraglin, before bringing the full weight of those dark brown eyes to bear on you. “Wha’ d’ yeh think y’r doin’, Kraglin?” the man asked with a thick accent that sounded almost Scottish. On his left shoulder he had that same flame within a flame symbol the Xandarian had on his uniform. The tension begin to build as the two men stared at one another, but it was Kraglin who finally broke. 

“Aw, come on, Tullk, you really gonna go runnin’ to the Cap’n ‘bout this?” 

“Yeh think he won’ find out abou’ this?” was the man called Tullk’s reply. Another round of staring, but this time you broke the moment by saying, “Just let us past. Ya didn’t have ta see anything.”. The other Ravager seemed to consider your words as he stared at you, his eyes slowly moving over your form, noting the leathers that were obviously not yours.

Kraglin shifted his feet nervously, hoping the other man would consider the fact that it wasn’t his neck on the line, and that the red head he was holding was right; Tullk could go his merry way and claim he had no idea with the First Mate was up to, but he also knew that Tullk’s allegiance was to their Captain, not him. At long last the other man seemed to finally make up his mind, but it wasn’t the other crew member he addressed, it was the girl. 

“Go on then. I don’ wan’ ta know wha’ yeh two are up ta.”, but the little smirk said he could take a few wild guesses, especially since he noted how the First Mate seemed to be clutching the female close to his chest.

Kraglin moved to the side so the other Ravager could head down the very corridor you’d just come from. You heard a slight mutter under Tullk’s breath, but couldn’t make out his words. While you watched him disappear from sight, Kraglin had managed to open the storage hatch and rummage around till he produced a pair of black leather boots. He set you down on your feet so you could put them on. Not the most fashionable, and on the large side, but anything was an improvement over barefoot as you slipped your feet into them. You gave a smile, and an approving nod, and with that Kraglin took your hand and the two of you were off again.


	5. Sweetest Perfection

The maze of corridors continued as you followed along automatically behind Kraglin; thank goodness the Xandarian knew where he was going! You held fast to his hand, not wishing to become separated, though at least the section you were in now seemed quieter, even cleaner. Perhaps this is where the higher ranking crew members stayed. It was hard to discern what, if anything, was behind the closed doors as there was no real markings to give any indication what you would find beyond them. It’d been some time since you’d heard boots, and that had been oddly reassuring. The last time there had been any hint of the approaching sound Kraglin had quickly stuffed you into what turned out to be a closet till he felt it was safe to retrieve you. It had been a dank, musty space, small and offensive to your nose. Initially you’d tried to place the smell, while straining to hear what was going on outside, but after awhile you realized you were probably better off not knowing what had been the source of that odor. Back out into the hallway the next intersection took awhile to decide which way to go; it appeared as if the First Mate had gotten lost, or perhaps he couldn’t make up his mind which direction to proceed in, but eventually he did make a decision. 

Kraglin looked first one way, then the other, then back to the first, and again the opposite way. Back and forth his head went, like he was shaking his head ‘no’ slowly. When he had finally made up his mind and had chosen a direction he muttered back to the girl behind him, “I wanna make a quick stop ta get you some more appropriate clothes. You’ll need ‘em, and fit in better that way.” It wasn’t long till he approached a door and tapped a series of buttons, gaining them entrance. The room was unremarkable, consisting of what appeared to be a wall of lockers, a bank of machinery with several glass panels suspended in the air, and a stand near the center of the room. The stand itself was circular and raised about a foot off the ground. There was nothing about it to suggest something special, but from there you could see and access the panels, which also were a bit of a mystery to the girl. Kraglin cleared his throat, looking away yet gesturing to the riser, only saying, “I, um, need you to strip outta the suit and stand there.”

Arching a slender brow you looked at Kraglin incredulously, hesitating, but as you realized he was serious you did as you were requested. It was easy to shimmy free from the jumpsuit given how large it was, the boots falling from your feet. Mentally you reverted to how it was at the brothel, your mind shutting itself down, and locking away behind closed doors; a defense mechanism, nothing more. If you’d stopped to consider your mind set it would have made you nervous, uncomfortable, but your time as a pleasure slave had changed all that. You regarded Kraglin, giving him a quizzical look; he hadn’t betrayed your trust, yet, so no reason to suspect anything bad would befall you now. Once fully in the very middle you looked to the Xandarian. “Now what?”, you asked, but Kraglin had already stepped forward and ran his hand across one of the panels, bringing it to life, and as it did so did the rest of the screens till the room was bathed in a soft blue glow. A few more taps and a single beam shown down upon your form, slowly constricting around your body, and trapping you in place. “Kraglin.....??!” Your voice went from questioning, climbing a full octave as several beams begin to trace over your whole form, following every line, every curve. The panic was rising in you, threatening to overwhelm, but you managed to swallow the lump in your throat, quashing the unwarranted fear. Mentally chastising yourself for your weakness, you stood still and quiet, waiting to see what would come next. As the light show finished the beam above shut off. The room was once again bathed only in the blue light from the monitors, yet the hum of machinery was loud in your ears. Some of the noises were familiar, like the staccato rhythm of a sewing machine, but if that was the case it was running much faster then you were used to hearing.

Kraglin had heard the trace of fear in her voice as she called his name, but he dare not turn around; he was trying to permit her to keep her modesty. It was hard enough when he could see her reflection in the screens, especially the way her panicked breathing had made her breasts rise and fall, threatening to spill lose from that thin strip of fabric that was a flimsy excuse for a top. Instead of focusing on the mostly naked Terran he tried to keep his eyes solely on the information being printed out across the monitors. It dawned on him that he gave her no warning, no idea what was about to happen. He had taken the trip to the tailor for granted, but to someone that had probably never experienced the computer generated modeling, and precisely calculated measurements, it would have been intimidating and overwhelming. A few more entries and everything would be finished, right down to boots that would fit the girl properly. Tapping the screen one last time there was an audible ‘click’ of metal from the wall of lockers to his left, the hum of working machinery finally falling silent. Kraglin gestured that direction, trying to find his voice and keep his gaze averted. “There ya go, Raven. That should be just what ya need.”, but Raven had heard the click and turned quickly to see what, or who, it was.

It was relieving to discover the sound you’d heard was only a door to one of the lockers, now sitting partially opened. Your curiosity got the better of you, stepping from the platform, jumpsuit and boots left where you’d discarded them, and went to find out what was waiting on the other side of the locker door. The metal hinges gave a small squeak as they opened , and inside was a stack of material; deep red and black leathers, black boots, and several garments in black and gray shades. Each one was pulled out, inspected, and marveled over; everything appeared to be a perfect fit. Before Kraglin could say anything you were already shedding the last traces of your former life, and slipping into your new attire; even under garments had been provided. Pulling the shirt over your head you smoothed the material, then let out a sigh at the sheer softness of the fabric; it was like silk, but of a substantial thickness. Leather pants molded easily to your legs, and went on with little effort. The leather coat fit more like a second top; it was fitted to your every curve. Pulling up the zipper you examined the darker lapels that formed a deep V down the front, and on the right shoulder a golden flame similar to Kraglin’s. Rings and hooks were scattered across the outfit with no apparent rhyme or reason, but the positioning suggested they had to have a purpose. Last were the knee high black boots with zipper and three buckles evenly spaced up each side. Something about the whole outfit just felt right. Turning, you looked at your new friend, and asked, “So.... How do I look?”

When Kraglin turned to finally examine the girl over he had to stop and collect his jaw from the floor; she looked, for lack of a better word, perfect. Swallowing hard, the First Mate licked his lips; there was that parched sensation again. He watched the girl before him, as she turned to examine every inch of her new attire. It moved with her, flexing and giving, a second skin, a layer of protection, but it did nothing to hide the fact that this was a very shapely female. She was admittedly missing a few accessories, but he could get them from the armory at a later date. Of course first he’d have to find out what she was proficient with before arming her with anything. While she’d look intimidating it wouldn’t do her any good if someone decided to call her out. He’d really stepped in it this time, no doubt about it, but there was no going back at this point. He watched as she gathered up the long mass of copper hair and wrap a cord around it, tying it into a low ponytail. “Raven”, he called, “I still need to get ya to your quarters, and after that there’s still one other thing I gotta do.”

 

“And just what might that be, Obfonteri?” said a deep, gravely voice, with just a hint of an accent, and more then a trace of sarcasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am /so/ sorry that this has taken me this long to post. I hit a bit of writer's block, then got caught up in the holidays and my health; surgery is not conducive to holding coherent thoughts to write. I will try to play a bit of catch-up and spread these next long over due chapters out, so I don't dump all of 'em on you at once; I believe there's five more to add, one of which I really enjoyed writing.
> 
> Again, comments and kudo's are greatly appreciate and help me grow as a writer, not to mention they help keep me going on this wild adventure. Thank you all for the kudo's, they've been inspirational, and nice to know someone enjoys my bizarre imagination!!


	6. All in the Family

The blood had drained from Kraglin’s face at the sound of the voice. It was a voice neither had heard during their trek through the ship. No, this voice had a commanding, no nonsense tone to it, and when the First Mate turned to face this new individual it was obvious in his body language that this was the Captain. Shoulders hunched, neck disappearing into his jumpsuit, Kraglin kept his eyes downwards, not daring to meet the gaze of the piercing red eyes that would have nailed anyone to the wall with that look. If looks could kill, Kraglin would be history. Yet at the sight of his differential crew member the other man smirked, at least till his gaze landed on the Terran. From smirk to sneer the Captain looked at his newest crew member; a female, a Terran female. Of all the things Kraglin had done in his time aboard the Eclector this ranked right up there in the top three of the dumbest things. ”Ya know my rules on bringin’ whores ‘board my ship, boy. Just cause your First Mate don’t make you special.”, the Captain said.

The voice was what had gained your attention first; deep and rich, a touch of gravel, and an accent that reminded you of a southern drawl. If the man attached to it hadn’t been giving you such a dirty look your first impression would have been a pleasant one, instead all it did was put your back up. You met his steely gaze with a glare of your own, looking him up and down as much as he did the same to you; a sizing up for certain. He was taller then you, broad of shoulder, and blue, bright blue, even his goatee was mostly blue. His eyes though were a vibrant red, and though he was bald he sported a red fin of sorts. It was of a material you couldn’t place, obviously machine made, and implanted into his head. It stood tall at the front of his head, before swooping gracefully downward till it ended just above the base of his skull. On the right side of his head he was heavily marked with long, crosshatched scars that continued down the right side of his face and across his cheek; they were so pronounced they were almost white against the blue of his skin. You could only imagine how he earned those. He wore a long duster in a dark red leather, with the golden flame on the left breast of his coat and on the right shoulder were three darts of sorts, maybe a rank or some sort of achievement marking. He was imposing, his stance commanding, a man that expected to be obeyed, yet beyond the dagger tucked under three straps on the cuff of his left sleeve he didn’t appear to carry a single weapon, at least not one that was visible. Yes, this was definitely the Captain. If his calling you ‘whore’ had been meant as an insult, it worked. You glared at him, daring him to look away first, because it wasn’t going to be you.

The Captain stared at the female, wondering what the hell his Fist Mate was thinking. If she’d just been a run of the mill whore he wouldn’t have outfitted her in Ravager garb, and Terran’s were seldom found in the brothels anyway, so what made this Terran so special? Or had all the time with Quill made the Xandarian soft for the species? He quickly found himself annoyed and intrigued as the girl glared at him. Quill had been scared spit-less at their first meeting, yet here was this female staring at him like she was ready to go toe to toe with him. He allowed himself a chuckle as he smirked at her, watching her reaction, gauging her. He turned his head to address Kraglin, but his eyes stayed glued to the female waiting for her nerve to break. “Explain yourself. Is she a fuck, or food for the crew. You know how those boys like Terran. I got no reason to keep them from eatin’ her.” The First Mate worked his jaw, but nothing came out; how was he going to explain to his Captain why he did what he did in front of Raven?

You set your jaw, a growl in your throat; what was with this, this, alien and assuming you were just a piece of meat, in one form or another. “You know you can talk to me!” you growled, your temper getting the better of you. Hands on hips you were reminded that you had no weapons, if this got physical it could end badly for you. You remembered seeing the dagger in his sleeve; could you grab it from him and be able to use it? As you continued to glare at the Captain, finally drawing his full attention (and a very ugly sneer) back towards you, Kraglin finally came to your rescue again and found his voice. 

“Cap’n, I assume full responsibility. I was on leave, per your orders, when I ran across Raven in one of the brothel.” the Xandarian explained, but before he could go any further he was cut off. “I told you to go get yer dick wet, not get hitched and bring her home with you!” the Captain said, furious with his First Mate. “You realize what will happen ta her once the rest of the crew gets wind? And they will get wind, after all I heard about ya skulkin’ about the ship, so how long do ya think she’s got till Tasserface and his group get a hold of her?”

The last comment was bone chilling. This ‘Tasserface’ didn’t sound like a very nice individual, and he obviously had a group of followers as unpleasant as he was. That or the Captain was trying another form of scare tactic. Looking at Kraglin’s face however told you it was no bluff, and that the other crew members were just as nasty, or worse, as the Captain made them out to be. “I can take care of myself!” you said, trying to sound more confidant then you felt, but you didn’t need to let the Captain realize you were actually scared. What was worse, your time as a sex slave, or what this Tasserface and company could, would, do to you? “I’m no wilting flower. I can hold my own.”

The girl had stones, that was for certain. The Captain watched her face, looking for any weakness, any chink in her bravado. For a moment he was sure he saw a flash of fear in those brilliant green eyes. They were so fierce, so full of fire, with flecks of gold dancing in their depths. He couldn’t look away from her suddenly as he really started to see her; he could see why his First Mate had been taken with the girl without a doubt. She was tall and shapely, but not built like a twig; she had muscle. She was strong, or maybe just stubborn, and more then a touch reckless as she kept that challenging stance. She still hadn’t looked away, meeting his stare. When she mentioned she could take care of herself there was a part of him that wanted to find out, as it didn’t sound like she was bluffing, but just how skilled was she? If she was going to be one of the crew he’d have to put her up near his and Kraglin’s quarters where she would be less likely to get jumped in the hall, but he’d still need to make sure she wouldn’t be an easy target. “So girl, you think you can handle yourself aboard my ship? We’ll see. Kraglin, put her in the bunk next to yours, get her settled and then we’ll see just how long she’ll last. But she’s your problem. She gets jumped, I aint gonna bail her outta trouble.” Kraglin heaved a sigh of relief, then choked on it before giving a quick nod, and an ‘Aye, Cap’n’. He turned back to the girl, “Come on, Raven, let’s get you settled, then we’ll get you down to the training room ta see what you can do.”

It was everything you could do to not sigh as the Captain finally turned away, releasing you from his gaze. A chance, you were getting a chance, so you better not blow it or you could find yourself on the menu. You sank a bit, not realizing how much you’d been straining to get every inch of height out of your body that you could muster. As the Captain finally left Kraglin and you alone again you turned to your new friend, realizing just how much he’d stuck himself out there for you; you couldn’t afford to let him down. “So quarters next to yours?” you queried, trying to manage a smile to lighten the mood. Watching Kraglin nod you tried not to think of what would come after. How would you need to show your skills? Would you have to physically fight someone? And then there was that unspoken issue you hadn’t even mentioned yet to your new friend, the very thing that landed you on this wild ride and put you in the position you were now in. How were you going to tell Kraglin? The two of you turned, walking side by side now out in the open, feeling comfortable and confidant that for the time being you had the Captain’s permission to be aboard, at least until you could prove yourself or end up or else. One thing was for certain; you weren’t going to end up anyone’s main course. 

The trip was made in silence, the two (now) Ravagers walking side by side down the corridor, the female exuding a confidence that was matched by the First Mate. They passed several other crew, some Raven recognized, but most she was clueless about. Kraglin shot them a glare, pulling rank, while the Terran next to him didn’t make eye contact unless forced too, and the look that was flat, giving nothing away. They ran into the man known as Tulk again, and stopped to have a short conversation. “Cap’n gave me a brief run down on what’s goin’ on with the lass.” Tulk said, looking between the two. Kraglin nodded, replying, “Just takin’ her ta get her settled, then it’s off ta see what she can do.” Tulk looked Raven up and down, saying, “Good luck, lass, yer goin’ ta need it.” 

You nodded to Tulk, not saying anything, and then you and Kraglin were off again. This time you didn’t stop till you were outside a solid door. The hallway was scattered with such, and by the clean, and quiet, it was rather obvious this was an area of the ship for the crew’s quarters. Kraglin put his palm to a plate, letting it scan his hand, before entering some info on a keypad. He pointed to the pad, and you mimicked what you’d seen him do. Your palm was scanned, and a beat emitted. 

“This will make it so only you, the Captain, or myself can enter your room.” Kraglin explained. 

“Wait, you mean big blue has access to my room?!” you griped, not liking the idea at all of having no privacy, especially from the Captain, whatever his name was. Kraglin merely nodded, causing you to heave a sigh of frustration. “So just what am I gonna need to do to prove to him that I’m capable of handling myself? I mean are we talkin’ weapons demo’s? Sparing? What?” 

Kraglin looked at the girl, and blinked slowly before he answered her. “Your gonna have ta fight the Cap’n.”

You froze, the blood draining from your face as you looked at the Xandarian. He was joking, right? How was she supposed to take on the Captain? He certainly didn’t look like no cream puff, not with those scars, that build. You moved into your quarters, finding your feet again, and gave a look around, not really noticing the plain surroundings, the single bed, the desk and chair, not even the window that gave you a stunning view of the galaxy beyond. No, your mind was on one thing; just how were you going to prove yourself to the Captain of a bunch of blood thirsty mercenaries?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always any input, Michael Rooker's autograph, and kudo's, are greatly appreciated and help keep me motivated. ;)
> 
> I had hopes to attend Fandemic, in Sacramento CA, this year, and finally get a chance to meet Mr. Rooker and perhaps get an autograph or maybe even a photo with him, but my neurosurgeon says otherwise. So the goal is to get this all done and posted before surgery since they'll be playing close to my spinal cord in my neck.


	7. Stronger

Kraglin had departed your quarters, giving you a pitying look as he left. By giving you a brief moment of privacy it gave you a chance to try and come up with some idea of what you’d do, but it also gave you plenty of time to worry about what might take place. Would he demand something of you that you’d be unable to perform? There really wasn’t much you couldn’t do when you put your mind to it, but would you be willing to? So consumed with your thoughts you missed the knock at your door. It wasn’t until Kraglin was standing in front of you that you were drawn out of your waking nightmare. You looked up at your friend and simply asked, “Is it time?” 

The First Mate felt a certain amount of sympathy for the Terran. It was obvious she was terrified; her breathing was fast, her cheeks flushed. He felt a wave of pity, after all this was his fault. He could have just rescued her and dropped her off somewhere else, he didn’t have to bring her back to the Eclector. Now it was to late. He stretched out his hand, perhaps the last friendly gesture she’d see for the next few hours depending on just how long the Captain prolonged his torture. This was something not only he had had to endure, but had witnessed just about every other crew member go through as well; a right of passage to be one of Captain Udonta’s crew. Would the Captain take it easy on her because she was a Terran? Had he ever taken it easy on Quill? That last one made him pause for a second. The Captain had been fond, almost fatherly towards Quill, using the Terran’s youth as a chance to mold and train him. Of course his favorite threat had also been how Quill should be grateful that the Captain had saved the boy from his own crew eating him, because they’d never tasted Terran before. Wasn’t this different though? Raven was female, and already an adult by Terran standards, but she’d also been smuggled aboard his ship. Did that mean at some time he would have to pay some sort of price for what he’d done? That didn’t matter right now. What did matter was trying to find a way to help get the girl through the challenge she was about to face.

You took the outstretched hand, gripping it as firm as was possible for you, and nodded your head. “Let’s do this then. Hopefully I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve he’s never encountered before, but some how I get the feeling there isn’t much out there he hasn’t seen.” With the last you gave a smirk. Yah, he struck you as the kind of male that had been there, done that, had the shirt, and then some! Looking at Kraglin revealed the First Mate lost in thought. You gave him a gentle nudge with your elbow, watching his face as you asked him, “What’s on your mind, Kraglin? Any sagely words of wisdom?” The two of you had left your quarters, the door closely behind you, as you headed back down the hallway. This time you turned a different direction; you were seriously going to need a map if you ever had to roam this place without a guide. As you and the Xandarian headed down the hallways, he appeared to be going more on auto pilot then really focusing on where he was taking you. He still hadn’t responded to your first nudge, so now you stopped cold in your tracks, refusing to budge till he acknowledged you. “Kraglin, come on. What’s going on?”, you asked again.

Kraglin had been trying to formulate what he was going to say, trying to find ways to key Raven in to the Captain’s strengths and weakness, things to watch out for, but if he did that would even he get a good idea of what the girl could do? No, what ever words of encouragement, or of advice he was going to offer died on his tongue. He gave her hand a gentle tug to get her moving again. “We’re heading to a place we use for practice. We have a couple rooms like this aboard the Eclector, each one serving a different purpose. I don’t believe the Captain will let others watch, only ‘cause he wants to get an idea of how strong, or weak you really are. Myself and Tulk will be permitted to watch, but only ‘cause of our rank.” he replied. In his peripheral vision he saw Raven’s smirk turn to a scowl as she muttered, “So nice ta see you think so highly of me.” 

As you continued through the maze of ship you whispered softly, “Kraglin, there’s something ... something I need to tell you. About me.” You couldn’t look at your friend, even though he clearly turned to look at you. Sensing the change in your tone he slowed the pace. He didn’t prompt you, instead just watching, waiting. “Um, you see, you found me where you did for a reason. I, um, uh-” you stammered, your mouth suddenly drier then the desert you had lived in. This time Kraglin did stop, putting his hands gently on your shoulders so he could turn you to face him, but you couldn’t meet his stare, fixing your gaze instead upon his boots. “Several years back I got hurt where I worked. I mean it was no big deal, not like I haven’t been banged up and bruised before, but something was wrong.” You realized you’d never really told anyone the story of what happened. No one cared. You were broken, damaged goods, useless. Even now, as much as you trusted your savior you didn’t feel like you could tell every detail of that day and what followed. “Let’s just say I have a disadvantage, but I try to not let it stop me.” The last you uttered with as much bravado as you could muster, trying to reassure your friend that it was no big deal.

The Xandarian mirrored the Terran’s smile, trying to appear confident that, like Raven said, it was no big deal. Kraglin didn’t know what to do with this new piece of info that he’d been entrusted with.. Was this weakness going to cause problems for the girl? They had continued to walk then in silence till they turned, entering a room that was massive. Casually leaning against the wall was the Captain. His body posture was lazy and arrogant all at once. “’bout time ya got here.” he quipped, smirking. Tulk was also present, leaned against a wall as well to the left of the Captain. Comparatively he didn’t look arrogant, but more intimidating. Kraglin gave Raven’s hand a tiny squeeze before moving to stand on the opposite side of the room from Tulk, adopting a similar posture to the other crew member as the two just watched. Along the back wall was a table, with a variety of weapons spread across it; everything from blasters of various sizes, blades short and long, odd looking hilts with nothing attached, a metal staff, and a few other items that Raven couldn’t have put names to. The door slid shut, sealing the Terran in with her fate. Time to sink or swim.

You had stopped as Kraglin had moved away from your side, taking a moment to survey the room and it’s layout, the weapons the back wall, and the big blue male in front of you. You kept your posture casual as green eyes met red in a challenging stare. Quietly you said, “We have a saying back on Earth. That which doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger. Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per the end of the last chapter, you know what I like ... you know what I need. ;)


	8. Figured You Out

Slowly you moved towards the Captain, every step intentional, every step carefully placed. Your muscles slowly started to contracted, coiling, ready to spring, yet some how you managed to keep your voice light and casual, asking, “So what am I supposed to call you, big blue? Grouchy Smurf?” Okay, so you were taunting him a bit, trying to provoke him. It was probably a foolish idea, but you had to try something to throw him off his game. He wore the same outfit you’d seen him in earlier, the dagger still secured to his sleeve. It looked stream lined and thin, and you’d have bet your boots it was balanced for throwing based on it’s design. As you got closer you started to move parallel to the Captain, trying to stay just out of reach, if you were judging the distance right; it’d been awhile since you’d sparred. You watched as he turned, always facing you, his eyes never leaving yours. He still wore that infuriating smirk, but it was obvious on his face when you took that jab at him he found it amusing, as the smirk had become more pronounced.

The Captain watched as she circled him, choosing to play the game for now and face her the whole time. He’d wait till she was closer to the weapons table before he’d show her his back, but for now she was cautious, calculating; impressive for a Terran female. “Yondu Udonta.” he responded, the smirk on his face extending into the tone of his voice. “And what am I supposed ta call you girlie? My First Mate found you in a whore house. Maybe I should call you Sugar Tits?” Yondu grinned, watching the scowl on the girl’s face deepen till she was actually growling in her throat, low and deep, a rumble that was actually an impressive sound for a Terran, and caused an odd reaction in him. Quickly he quashed the unusual sensation; it was foreign to him, so he couldn’t quite place it. Or maybe his last meal hadn’t agreed with him. She was nearly to the table now, and so he shifted, turning the opposite direction from how she was moving, one hand brushing his duster from his right hip, and exposing the odd quiver hanging there with it’s single golden arrow.

You were still trying to regain control over your temper after how Yondu had addressed you. Seriously, Sugar Tits?! The growl had slipped out without you even aware of what you were doing, but quieted as you watched the Captain; he was giving you his back. It had to be a trap. Did you take the opening? You might not get another, and yet every instinct you possessed was screaming ‘NO!’ at you. Instead you used the moment to pick up one of the hilts that had nothing attached to it, a simple button on it’s shaft. Quickly you tucked it into the waist band of your pants, choosing to stick with just your hands for now. The Captain’s duster flared out on his right side, and his fin had begun to glow, and that was the only warning you got before a piercing whistle brought a golden streak strait towards you. You cussed loudly, dropping to your knees to avoid being impaled. You watched the arrow spin around and return to the Captain’s hand. “What the fuck?!” you snarled. “Oh you wanna play that way. Fine!” 

The Terran had dodged the arrow. Impressive. Both Tulk and Kraglin were stunned as they had watched the female’s reflexes cause her to drop to the floor, narrowly missing the Captain’s yakka arrow by inches. Granted Yondo hadn’t been looking at his target, but he didn’t need to, he could control it through his whistling. So either he missed on purpose, or he missed on purpose. Yondu turned to face Raven, trying to hide the fact that he was impressed so far, and took a boot to the jaw as a result. He’d not seen the girl spin quickly, landing the heel of her boot squarely along his jawline. His head snapped to the side, and his eyes narrowed as he slowly turned to look at her. Now both were glowering at one another, and the Captain had his own growl rumbling low in his throat as he ran his tongue across his lower lip, tasting blood. “So you wanna play dirty, little girl. This /will/ be fun.” Hand to hand wasn’t normally his style, not when you could whistle your way through any situation, but he had said he wanted to see what she could do, so he might as well drag this out and see just what she was made of.

You’d connected your kick, but there was no time to really enjoy the little victory. You’d watched in odd fascination as Yondu had licked the blood from his lip, the growl in his throat and red orbs blazing with a fire you’d not seen previously. Okay, maybe kicking him hadn’t been the smartest thing, but you weren’t known for being rash. You still had your trump card, but it wasn’t time to reveal it, not yet anyway. Of course hopefully you’d get a chance to before he pummeled you into submission. You jerked back away from the Captain as he took a swing at you, then again. Each time you jerked your body away, or to the side, bringing up a hand to deflect his punches. Muscle memory from all those hours sparring with the guys at the dojo was paying off. You moved light on the balls of your feet, graceful as a cat. 

Tulk and Kraglin watched in awe as the two moved across the floor. Raven seemed to be mostly evading the Captain’s punches, pushing him aside effortlessly. It was as if the two danced; forward, back, side to side. It was frighteningly beautiful to watch, but for Kraglin he wondered how long till the game was over; he knew Yondu was only toying with her. As Yondu went to grab the female, Raven reached out grabbing his wrists, pushing his hands downwards, while executing a front kick, and connecting again with the Captains jawline. The First Mate smiled just a little, mirroring the expression his friend had; maybe she was tougher then he thought. Yondu growled again, leaning in so his face was inches from the Terran’s, not trying to escape her grip. 

His breath was warm on your face, his eyes bright fire before you. With his lip curled up in a sneer you could see the jagged yellow teeth that lined his mouth. He was challenging you, and you weren’t about to back down, but that wasn’t the only reason you leaned in. You still had your grip on his wrists; surely he could have easily broke free as you both stood there face to face. Something held you there, something in the way he looked at you, something raw and primal. Quickly you looked over his face, from the scars to the swollen lip with it’s trickle of blood, the furrowed brow, and those soul piercing red eyes. Closer you leaned, captive to his gaze. Somewhere in the back of your mind a tiny voice was screaming at you, but you couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge it and what ever it felt was so important that it was trying to ruin this beautiful moment.... And that’s when he hit you.

Kraglin wanted to scream; what was she doing?! They were inches apart, the Terran and the Centurian, noses nearly touching as gazes locked. Yondu had slowly twisted his wrists, slipping Raven’s grip as the girl became distracted, lost in the Captain’s eyes. Even Tulk had a slightly puzzled look upon his face as the two Ravagers exchanged glances. It was that moment with the two not more then an inch apart that the Captain took his revenge for the boot to the head Raven had given him. The girl visibly rocked sideways when Yondu’s fist connected with her ribs. What ever spell she’d been under was shattered in that moment as she gasped and wheezed, trying to catch her breath. “Now we’re even”, Yondu said smugly. “I gotta admit, Red, you’re tougher then I thought. It’s been fun, but fun’s over.”

Idiot! There was that voice again, the one that had been trying to break you from your reverie earlier. You’d gotten stupid, lulled in by ... by something, and you paid the price for your stupidity. It was time to up the anti. As the Captain enjoyed his taunt, you took that precious moment to return the favor with a short jab to his gut. Okay, that hurt, as Yondu merely grunted; obviously he wasn’t as soft as he looked. He made a grab for you, but you tumbled backwards, staying in a crouched position and attempting to sweep his legs. He must have been anticipating the maneuver, because you only met air. Yondu was looking down at you with a smirk and a tiny shake of his head. In that moment you launched strait at him.

The Captain had been amused by her attempt to drop him on his ass, but he hadn’t expected what he was facing now, as the Terran grabbed onto his lapels, propelled by a strong kick of her legs, and toppled him over backwards so that she was straddling his chest. Kraglin beamed a smile and Tulk smothered a chuckle. The two were now in another one of those awkward positions, starring at each other, the Captain flat on his back, with the Terran perched over him. Yondu reached up and grabbed her ass, squeezing as he grinned at her. “A familiar pose for you, Sugar Tits?” he jabbed. His expression was pure lechery as he held onto her, even being so bold as to pull her forcefully down against the bulge in his pants. Kraglin openly gasped, suddenly fearing for his friend; just because she’d worked in a brothel didn’t mean that she’d enjoyed her time there.

Don’t react, don’t give him the satisfaction. You gave a feral grin, leaning down towards him that growl once more deep in your throat. You watched as his pupils dilated at the sound, and it gave you an idea; almost all males had the same weakness, and you knew that ages before you were a sex slave. You leaned in closer till you were able to nibble the lobe his ear if you wanted to. “How do you know I’m not right where I want to be?”, you purred into his ear, and you were rewarded as you listened to him suck in his breath, growling again, only this one was way more primal. It was time to play your trump card, and see just what he’d think of your little trick. You may not be able to make an arrow fly with a whistle, but you had something equally unexpected. Releasing his lapels you slid your thumbs across the tips of your fingers, from pinkie to index, again, and again. Your whole body begin to tremble and twitch. 

Tulk and Kraglin jaw dropped over what they were witnessing; talk about a compromising position! The Xandarian was especially confused as he watched Raven’s reaction to the way the Captain had been massaging her ass through the leather pants, and then when she got a rise out of him (rather literally) he was stunned beyond words. He and Tulk both watched, horrified and fascinated all at the same time. Why did his jump suit feel oddly snug through his groin as he watched the female pull back so she could look into the Captain’s eyes, a pleased smile on her lips. Yondu was completely fixated on her face, taking in every detail. From how pale her skin was, those firery green eyes, the way a strand of white hair hung in her eyes, and those lips. He was staring at those lips, wondering what they’d feel like, what she’d taste like. Surely the Terran was reading his desires so visible in his expression as she reached up to hold his face and kiss him. Pale hands and lips met blue skin at the same time, and the jolt of electricity that Yondu felt surge through his body was almost crippling. His hands shot out to either side, legs strait out as well, and his fin glowed and sparked as his whole body jerked and twitched. Tulk and Kraglin were stunned and unable to move; how the hell was she doing that to him?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so much fun to write! 
> 
> Although the next was almost as enjoyable. 
> 
> Brief Update: Story-wise I'm not even sure if I'm halfway through, or not. So many scenes still jostling around in my head, and an ending waiting impatiently. However I was informed I'm slated for surgery on April the 6th. So if I don't get this finished by then I'll do my best to get back to it as soon as I can!


End file.
